Devils on Starfall Isle

13

Verity sat down, hidden from the shore behind the trees, only vaguely aware of what the villagers were doing. Clouds were crawling in from the north, and the blazing dawn was soon going to be replaced by a low, grey sky. She was sitting in a thicket of tall grasses, a type that the villagers called foxspears, thin green blades with tiny red flowers dotted at the top like a crown. It was a lovely place to sit, because the moss that grew between the plants was thick and soft, and the stream burbled gently nearby. On another day this would be a fine place to watch the world go by.

Another star streaked down. Because she had nothing else to do, she counted the seconds until the next one, ticking the time by tapping her fingers on the mossy ground.

She'd counted to ninety six when the next one fell. This one landed quite close to the bay, smashing somewhere into the sea nearby. No wonder the captain of the ship had refused to come any closer.

She leaned back, resting her head against the cold moss, and wondered what she was going to do. She was hungry, so she made herself a breakfast of two of the bread rolls that she'd made last night, along with the sharpberries that she'd packed. They were in surprisingly good shape, and she savoured their tart sweetness, the juice that stained her tongue and fingers purple. It cheered her up somewhat.

A full tummy, the warmth of the sun, and the soft ground under her meant that her night of walking finally caught up with her, and she fell to sleep, shawl wrapped around her, bag for a pillow. She slept uneasily; but nevertheless she slept.

She was woken sometime later by the sound of something crashing through the trees. At first she thought it was the things, come for her; but then she heard the talking, and realised it was a pair of people, one of who cursed softly when she tripped on something. Verity lay very still, knowing that she was invisible from them unless they came close; then she would be easily spotted.

'I doubt she's gone far,' said a man's voice. She frowned; it was familiar. It sounded like Father Hooper.

'No,' replied a woman. 'She was sitting up by the shed. She walked up here when the boat left. We'd have seen her if she came up the road to Hod, because she'd have had to come past us. I reckon she's come up here to hide from us, and drink from the stream.'

She closed her eyes and silently cursed for not moving sooner, at not being more hidden.

'What do you want to do?' asked the priest. 'Follow the stream up into the forest?'

'She won't have gone that far,' said the woman. 'Not alone, into the trees, with them things roaming around. I'll wager she's close by. Might even be crouching down behind a tree, listening to us. What did you say her name was again?'

'Verity something,' said Father Hooper. 'Verity Fisher.'

'Verity Fisher,' said the woman, loudly. 'We don't want to hurt you. Least, I don't. The townsfolk are afraid and that makes people stupid, but I've seen too many suns to want to throw another life away. And Father Hooper here, he's not going to hurt anyone. So come on. Let's see you. We want to help you, and we're hoping you can help us.'

Verity was tired of being afraid, and felt so alone. A friendly voice was welcome after the abuse in Hod and the leering snarls of the things. So, ready to flee if she was threatened, Verity stood up.

'I'm here,' she said.

The woman was only a stone's throw away. She adjusted her shawl, and turned to face Verity, brushing grey hair from her face, from where it had come loose from her tight bun. Behind her the priest looked unsure.

'Hello, Verity Fisher. You might not know me. My name is Hope Fletcher. I was the wife of Alderman Giles Fletcher. I say was, because four nights ago he was murdered by those devils, the Twins bless his soul. He was murdered as he ushered the people of Hod into the chapel, doing his duty to the town.'

She blinked away her tears before continuing.

'I saw what those folk said to you, Verity. I saw them throw them stones. I think you're an odd girl, but I don't think you brought these devils on us. But here's the thing we don't understand: no one else has survived outside the chapel. We went to Glin, your village, and it was ruins and death. We didn't bother looking for no one there, although you were probably hiding somewhere. And now, here you are, alive. You even survived out here, early this morning, on your own, in that little shed.

'I'm not stupid. I know that we need every help we can get, and I'll wager you do, too. I'll bet you're cold, and tired, and hungry, and we could fix that for you. But you have to tell us, me and Father Hooper, what you know and how you know it. What do you say?'

Verity hesitated. She actually wasn't feeling too bad right now; but she knew that wouldn't last forever. There was only so much unspoiled grain in the granary in Glin; she had no idea if her hut had survived the night. She was living on borrowed time, and she knew it.

But she couldn't face that angry mob again.

'I'll tell you, but I'm not going back to Hod,' she said. 'I'm going home, to my hut in Glin. I'll try and last for another moon until the next time the ship comes, and then I'm going on that ship to Dort on the mainland. And I ain't no witch, so I ain't going in no chains. If I tell you what I know, you have to swear that you won't lock me up. You and Father Hooper both. Is that a deal?'

The priest looked pained.

'I can't promise that, child,' he said. 'If I find out that you really have practised witchcraft I will have to bring you to justice.'

'So you go to the shore, then,' said Hope. 'You go stand somewhere where you can't hear what she says. Then you won't find out. It'll just be my soul on the line.'

Father Hooper opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. He shook his head.

'This is a bad plan, Goody Fletcher. But I can't think of a better. Fair enough. I'll come back when you call me.' He turned, and walked away, down towards the sea.